


License and Registration

by Endraking



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Public Sex, Rimming, Sad Jackson, Smut, Sneaky Stiles Stilinski, fake officer, horny jackson, public sex act, twlivebingo, using the uniform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 02:51:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17357552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endraking/pseuds/Endraking
Summary: Jackson returns to Beacon Hills after his break up with Ethan.  Just getting into town late, his thoughts overwhelm his mind before those blue lights appear in his mirror.





	License and Registration

License and Registration

 

 

 

The eerie darkness that Beacon Hills carried hangs heavy in those early hours.  The town itself seemed to carry a cloud of darkness even on the clearest nights.  The moment he passes the **Welcome to Beacon Hills** sign it begins.  The LED headlights cut a path through the darkness as he turns down the road that circled the town, heading through the preserve.  He couldn't help but notice how the darkness seems to bite the edges of the light, casting darker shadows where there should only be light.  He looks to the rearview mirror, not looking for any type of situational awareness but to see his reflection.  The stress shows through his eyes, both from the red eye and from his last few weeks.  His blues aren't as clear as the doubts from growing up resurface. 

He wasn't good enough for Ethan.  That's why the wolf dumped him.  Jackson Whittemore wasn't good enough for anything.

That's why he was back in Beacon Hills.  He needs to see Lydia.  In spite of their past they share a connection.  A connection that he wants to enjoy, since he has so few.

He stomps the gas and whips the domestic sportscar around a sharp turn.  Another disappointment.

The ceramic matrix grey metallic Corvette Z06 easily takes the corner, hugging to the road as he pushes it harder.  It doesn’t handle as well as his Porsche, at least not to him.  This was what he learnt to expect from "home".

When he'd tried to request an import the luxury car rental business tried to put him in a Mercedes Minivan.  That's like asking for an import beer and getting a Heineken.

Fitting for the way his life was turning out.  Just when he thought he earned something, gained some recognition, it reminded him that he was never good enough.

Domestic car.

Not good enough.

Automatic.

Not good enough.

Fled London and came home.

Not good enough.

Dumped by boyfriend.

Not good enough.

He slams his palms against the wheel and yanks the car around a large bend in the desolate street and spins the car out in the center of the road.  Never fucking good enough.

 

He wants to growl, to lose it but for now, he only has to drive at 3AM.  He slowly turns the car and continues but the flash of blueberries beat down his mirrors and fill his car with blue.  FUCK!  This was his luck.  Maybe they wouldn't recognize him.

He tightly grips the steering wheel and stares ahead.  He wanted this over with quick.  Maybe whatever deputy pulled him over would let him off with a warning, so he could finally get some sleep.  Finally get something he wants in his life.  The loud taps against his driver's side window pull his attention and the moment he turns his head, that dumbass turns on the light and floods his face.  He held his hand up to block the light as he lowers the window.  "Evening-"

"License and Registration."

"Yeah."

The scent wafts through the opened window with the cool breeze.  Light scents of musk and pine.  Christian Dior.  This smug asshole was wearing Dior cologne.  His old scent.  What deputy wears Dior?

He leans towards the console and fishes out his paperwork from the agency and pulls out his wallet.  As he looks back he snarls, "Turn off the light!  You don't have to blind me."

The deputy repeats, "License and Registration."

The second time he caught the sound.  This guy was lowering his voice.  Trying to sound intimidating.  Deputy dipshit.

He shoves it towards the man and the light shifts just enough for him to get a good look.  The face seemed familiar, but the number of times at the station told him nothing of who it was.  Then this asshole wore his absurd brown deputy hat with star and his thick reflective shades.  Cool guy.  Sunshades at night.

As the deputy steps away, he calls out, "Do you know who my father is?"

In an almost familiar tone, he hears the reply under the deputy's breath, "No, but I know who you want to call daddy."

"What?"

The false voice returns, "I said wait here.  I've got to run this."

What a prick.

He taps his fingers on the wheel, anxiously waiting for this to be over.  He doesn't catch the movement but the deep fake voice returns as the white light floods his vehicle, "Step out of the car."

"What the hell?  What did I do?"

"I said step out of the car!  I'm not going to repeat myself, Jackson."

He flings open the door and steps out, his arms defiantly held out to his sides, "What is this even?"

The deputy is on him quick, spinning him around and slamming his chest against the roof of his rental.  "You've got the wrong guy!"

The familiar, normal tone brushes close to his ear as the deputy presses his body against his, the heat bleeding over, "No.  I think I've got just who I want."

He tried to struggle, throwing his elbow back but the deputy must've been anticipating it because he grabs his wrist and wrenches his arm against his shoulder blade.   Another hand grabs his free wrist and twists it until it joins the first.  He can barely push back as the metallic clicks happen.  His heart thunders in his chest, he had to actively fight the shift.  He could do little to control his anger which pours freely, "You can't arrest me!  I didn't do anything wrong!"

The deputy slams against his back and rolls his hips as he whispers into his ear, "You haven't yet."

He shudders from the tone.  The heavy press of a hard cock through the deputy's pants and his jeans sent another group of thoughts through him.  Instinctually he lifts his ass and pushes back against the deputy pulling a groan from the man.  "I knew you wanted this.  From the moment I saw you at the airport I knew you'd bend over for it.  I bet you were aching for it back in London.  Craving it."

This man knew too much.  There was no way he was any deputy.  He turns his head and met the blank stare from the reflective glasses, "Who are you?"

His eyes went to the missing name plate and the soft, clean cut jaw shifted as the man grins.  "Come on Jax, you remember me."

The grin gave it away.  It wasn't the best angle but he knew those lips from secrets in the boy's locker room.  "Stiles?"

That grin grew, those whites flashing almost predatorily, "Yeah.  Now what are we going to do with you?"

His mind fought to process the information, Stiles, handcuffing him and holding him against the sportscar, his hard cock almost resting between his ass if there weren't clothes involved.  Then the scent.  "That's my Dior!  From the locker room!  You stole my cologne!"

Stiles yanks his handcuffed arms and dragged him across the roof before slamming his chest over the hood, bending him completely over.  Stiles kicks his feet wider apart before slotting himself in the gap.  Stiles' weight presses against his back as those hot words breathe across his ear, "You left your cologne.  I used it.  Just like you left.  And now that you're back, I'm going to use you."

He shouldn't shudder from those words and grind back against Stiles' cock, but that's what he does.  He doesn't give up yet though, oh he wants this, but wants to make Stiles earn it.  "So what?  Fuck in the back of your cruiser?"

Stiles grabs a fist full of his hair and pulls his face from the car, straining his neck, "No.  I'm going to fuck you, right here, for everyone to see.  Anyone who drives by is going to see Jackson Whittemore getting bred like the bitch he is."

The weak moan slips, "Fuck..."

Stiles' hands are quick, snaking around his waist, releasing his belt and the button on his jeans.  He tries to stand but they are back to his back, slamming him against the hood.  "We can do this all night Jax."

He spits back, "What if I don't want it?"

His pants are yanked to his ankles unceremoniously as Stiles chuckles, "You want this so bad you'd beg for it.  Actually.  That's it!  I'm going to make you beg for my cock."

The cool breeze sends a shiver over his naked flesh that joins his quivering words, "Never."

"We'll see."

The chill across his ass is short lived as warm hands probe and grip before the sharp sting of a slap.  "Good enough to eat."

He inhales sharply as Stiles' nose and mouth push between his muscular globes and the first tease of that strong, practiced tongue swipes across his hole.

 

His muffled whines echo from the trees as Stiles licks long stripes over his hot, exposed hole.  He tightens his lids, focusing on the sensation, the attention building the pressure within.  The flash of headlights pull his attention and Stiles' warm face disappears.  He looks back, fear joining the arousal as he sees Stiles with a shit eating grin waving to the blue truck as it passes, his naked ass exposed to the world.  "What the hell!?!"

Stiles squats again, "What?  It's a full moon tonight.  Everyone knows that.  You should be flattered though.  I think they took a picture."

"I'm going to ki- "

The threat dies in his throat as Stiles sucks and licks the rapidly cooling saliva and brings that sweet heat and electricity back.

His lip pops free from his attempt to bite and hold it to muffle the sounds and his first piercing moan slips when Stiles pushes past his tight ring.  He tries to control his body, but his hips push back as he starts going light headed from the sensations.  A cold sweat breaks over his body and each shallow inhale proceeds another sharp whimper as he feebly tries to verbalize the pleasure.  No one could eat an ass like Stiles. 

His legs start going numb, the strength to hold himself up failing as he rests himself against the hood.  Far sooner than his dripping, slapping the side of the car, cock would like, Stiles stops his oral abuse and slides a finger to the first knuckle.  He hisses from the intrusion just before the pop of a cap of lube sounds.  "Ready to beg?"

"If-If I say no, will you eat my ass all night?"

The exuberance bounces in Stiles' voice, "If you want me to eat your ass all night all you have to do is say so.  I could eat it for every meal.  But tonight, nope.  Tonight you're going to beg."

"Never."

The cool fluid hits his hole and he bucks back, pushing that long finger deep into him, the tip striking his prostate, causing him to lurch back forward.

Stiles chuckles as he builds a slow rhythm, glancing blows against his prostate each time, feathering the tissue, slowly increasing his pressure.  "How about this?  Finger fucking you until the sun rises?"

He shoots back between groans of pleasure, "The Ethan special?  There's a reason he's an ex."

"Fuck, that's cold blooded."

Stiles slips a second finger and he shakes against the thickness.  His hole clenches tightly but Stiles continues to push.  Slowly his pace speeds up, less stretching and more taking expert strikes.  The pre drips from his cock, pulsing and hanging in strings before slapping to the car or dripping to the pavement.

The headlights return and he tenses.  Stiles laughs as he only finger fucks harder through the tension and a wave of goosebumps crest.  "Don't want to be seen?  You know what to do."

He huffs a response, his breaths barely caught, "I don't want to be recognized."

"OH!  I got you Jax.  You should've said so."

A third finger slips with another glob of lube before those stupid shades slide down his face and rest on his nose quickly joined by the ridiculous deputies' hat.  He growls, "This isn't what I meant."

Stiles yanks his fingers free and he couldn't help the weak, pathetic gasp that it triggers before he replies, "Yeah, but it's what I meant.  Ready for my cock yet?"

"N-no.  I won't."

Stiles replies with a knowing air, "Okay..."

His ass was cold and neglected for far too long, the suspense coiling with the fading tension.  Just when he can't take it anymore, the cold, lube coated blunt heat pushes against his ring.  He whines as gasps, trying to look back but only able to make out the shapes at this point.  The solid cylinder, roughly the same width as two of Stiles' fingers invades his body.  He cries out as it pushes further and further, his internal muscles contracting around the smooth, polished object.  He wanted it to be something warm, something he could feel and enjoy.

Just as soon as the object filled him, Stiles retracted it and feather fucked his rings with short, fast strokes, not going deep enough to sate his renewed desire to be filled.

 

"Wha-what are y-you d-doing?"  His weak words barely gain flight, his throat hoarse from obscene moans, his body trying to find relief from the endless teasing.

The light humorous tone almost mocks him, "Oh, I'm fucking your ass with my nightstick.  I know, my cock would be better and it would fill you up just the right way but someone is being stubborn."

"Y-yeah.  Y-y-y-y-y"  He can't help but repeat the sound as Stiles furiously continues those fast light strokes, blotting out his thoughts with his sensitive tissue screaming for something more.  It feels great but his insides, the sense of his real desire, the one that has him sucking back his saliva, aren't being filled.

 

He thrashes against the hood, the hat and glasses falling from his face as he tries to deal with the thrum of over teased pleasure slowly shifting to discomfort in his body.  He whines and tries to roll his hips and thrust back but Stiles is steps ahead and keeps the depth of thrusts and angle the same.  He can almost feel where it should be pushing against his prostate but it ghosts just before it reaches.  The tears begin to slide free as his body tries to process the feeling.  "Fuck."  His voice breaks on the sharp uptick of the U. 

Stiles pulls the object free and he breathes several shallow sighs, as his heart calms from the rapid pace before.  "What about now?"

His pride was too strong.  "No."

With a sigh, Stiles replied, "Alright.  Until you do, I'll just fuck between your cheeks.  That's cool right."

He huffed a "Whatever."

The metal scratch of the zipper fills his mind and sounds as if the world is cracking in half. 

The gentle shift of fabric against his legs and the squish of lube has his resolve weakening further. 

When the long, thick, hot cock slides up his cheeks he can't even bite back the needy moan, his hole clenching around nothing.  Stiles takes it in stride, rutting slowly up and down before slipping under.  Stiles' cock rubs up against his swollen perineum and lifts his sack before colliding with his cock.  He feels so tiny, the pulse within Stiles' cock vibrating through his keyed up nerves.  The tension returns as Stiles slowly thrusts against his hard cock.  He bubbles and feels the heat of his pre shift from his tip to Stiles' cock.  Fuck.  He needed it.

Stiles withdraws and slides back between his cheeks and he can feel the blunt head pulse, the foreskin slipped back just enough for the head to press against his hole.  He tries to buck back but Stiles moves with him, keeping the head poised.  It's too much.  He needs it.  Stiles begins, "So Jax, do- "

He sounds like a completely cock slut as the words flow, "Fuck Stiles.  Please fuck me.  I need you to fuck me."

Stiles pushes into him, his hole struggling against the new width, his breath hitched.  Stiles sinks his entire length as he leans forward and whispers into his ear, "Fuck.  You're so hot when you try to hold back.  How do you want me to fuck you?"

Every keyed up nerve sings, the fireworks of pleasure lighting up before his eyes, his cock twitching for the heavy tension in his gut.  "Fa-Fast and hard.  I'm so close."

Stiles licks his lobe before kissing his cheek, "I've got you princess."

"Fuck you!"

Stiles chuckles as he slides out and snaps his hips back harshly, the slap of their skin echoing over the sounds of his car.  "No!  Fuck you!"

His last reply lacks any strength, a sign of resignation to pleasure.  "Yeah.  Fuck me..."

Stiles snatches his hair and yanks him up, forcing him to present his ass higher as he starts fucking him harshly.  With every thrust his bell rings, the pressure continuing to build higher, his insides stretched from the heavy cock plundering him.  Weak gasps escape as his voice cracks and breaks.  Long, rough strokes fill him and the slap of Stiles balls up against his own fills him with a desire to be completely filled.  He tries to thrust back and clenches on Stiles' cock, trying to hold him in.  Stiles grunts through the resistance and fucks him harder, their pants joining one another in a symphony of need.  His breaths shake as Stiles wraps those long fingers around his throat.  He doesn't even wait, "Fuck.  Choke me." 

Stiles lets the fingers lightly hold his neck as their thrusts devolve and slam against each other desperately.  Stiles' cock hardens, his tip flares just before those fingers lock tight around his throat.  He stares off into space as a white haze becomes his mind the tension in the spring popping, the spray of his hot cum shooting over the car.  One more gasp and Stiles slams it deep and the heat coats his insides, spreading inside.  Stiles continues to shallowly thrust, spurting every last drop.  Giving him want he wanted.

Stiles lays his head on the hood, pulling his hand free from his neck before he presses against his back.  "I'm glad you're back.  I missed you."

His demolished voice replies, "Getting sappy?"

"Nope, just love to fill your ass.  Princess"


End file.
